


Ye Shall Be As Gods

by YaeL (thesometimeswarrior)



Category: Jewish Scripture & Legend, Megillat Ester | Book of Esther, מדרש | Midrash, תנ"ך | Tanakh
Genre: Angst, Depersonalization, Ficlet, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Purim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 07:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/YaeL
Summary: God punishes in the old stories, Esther thinks. Where is that God now?





	Ye Shall Be As Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost. I posted it before--around Purim--but took it down, because I wasn't sure I liked the picture of Esther it painted. I still don't. I think my other piece, _And If I Perish_ lends a picture of Esther with some more autonomy. One who willingly sacrifices herself in some ways for the sake of the Jewish people. One that is, perhaps, more compatible with the text.
> 
> This one paints a different picture of Esther, but I don't think it's necessarily incompatible with that one...or with the text. The emphasis is different. And this, I think, highlights some darker aspects of the Book of Esther in a way that I think is important. So I'm posting it here again.
> 
> Title from Genesis 3:5.

Had she the capacity to feel it, Esther (not Hadassah, because Hadassah is dead) might have been glad that her uncle’s message came via Hathach, because she cannot rage at Hathach. _Who knows?_ her uncle had said to him, and now he relays to her. _Perhaps you came to the palace for something like this._

_Came to the palace._ She scoffs. 

_And the King’s men had banged on the door demanding their virgins, and her uncle had said “This could be good for us,” had said only “Do not use your true name. Do not tell them who your people are.”_

He does not mention God, but she knows her uncle is thinking it. Mordecai is always thinking of God, has told her all the old stories: about when they had a land, their own king, about the prophets and patriarchs. 

God punishes in the old stories. Punished them in Sodom, in Gomorrah.

_It was Tevet when they came to drag her from the woman’s house, when they brought her to the King’s bed. It was Tevet when they came for her, and it was cold, and she was warm, and the King’s body was hot as he pressed himself on her. She was warm, and she laid still like the ground, trying to think of nothing as the King rose-and-fell-and-rose-and-fell-and-rose-and-fell on her all night, waiting for the morning when she could finally leave his chambers, go to the other women’s house, never have to see him in person again._

_But when the morning came, he declared that she was lovely and fair, that he delighted in her, placed a crown on her head like a shackle. He threw her a feast, called her “Queen,” declared that they would spend many more nights together._

God punishes in the old stories. Where is that God now?

“Fine,” she relays back to Hathach. Perhaps her people will yet live. Perhaps she will die. She cannot bring herself to care. “If I perish, I perish.”

* * *

After the banquet, in his darkened chambers, the King gives her the House of Haman, as recompense, as a guilt gift. “He tried to force himself on you,” he says, his voice sloshed with wine.

 _He is not the only one,_ she thinks.

The King presses himself down onto her again, extends himself to her in a such a way that means she is supposed to touch and she obeys. His voice is slurred as he asks: “Is there anything more that should be done?”

God punishes in the old stories. But God, evidently, is not here, so _she_ will do what needs to be done. 

“Reverse the order. Give my people leave to defend themselves. To take vengeance on those that would attack us.” 

He nods, gives her his ring. Dips in and out a few more times, before falling asleep on top of her. She does not sleep, hardly moves. She lays still like the ground, clutches the ring in her hand.

* * *

On the thirteenth and fourteenth of Adar, 75,000 Persians are slain. _Your people_ , she thinks.

The Jews feast and rejoice, overwhelmed with relief at their salvation.

Esther lays still and feels nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you found this thought-provoking. Please consider leaving a comment.


End file.
